The Bright One
by fayegrove
Summary: A young woman is released from imprisonment with no idea of who or where she is and nothing but a name to go by. Taken in by the enigmatic Mr. Gold, she finds herself drawn to him until fragmented memories of a life unknown to her begin to surface. She is soon walking the line between reality and fantasy in a game of duplicity she never intended to play.
1. Starting Over

Exhaling slowly, Belle approached the ornate house with trepidation. This new world was foreign from the dark, quiet one she had known and all of her senses were overwhelmed from the array of sights, sounds, and colors she now experienced. Her only comfort was in knowing that the man standing to her right was the one bit of humanity she knew, which grounded her. When a wave of anxiety rushed over her and made it hard for her to breathe, her eyes remained locked on the building as she reached her hand out towards him, grasping at empty air. She only calmed down again once his gloved hand grasped her bare one and squeezed her fingers tight.

"I can't imagine what this must be like for you," Mr. Gold said softly. She turned her face towards his, unable to explain the trust she felt towards this stranger. "To spend so many years in a concrete room, not knowing who you are…" his voice broke. "To suddenly find yourself in a strange place—"

"—and doubting my sanity," Belle confessed. She squeezed his fingers with hers and enjoyed the warmth spreading through her when he smiled down at her. "Don't worry about me, Mr. Gold. I'll be fine." For a moment she hesitated, brow crumpled in thought. "You just don't seem like a Mr. Gold to me."

"I get that sometimes," he giggled nervously. Before she could reply he reached a hand out as if to brush her cheek; halfway through the motion he appeared to lose his nerve and instead offered his arm to her. "Shall we?"

She accepted his elbow, gripping perhaps more tightly to his arm than she knew to be proper for a man she had only just met. Fear conquered her sense of politeness however, and she found herself unable to control her anxiety until Mr. Gold patted her hand gently. He led her up the stairs and unlocked the front door, pushing it open wide so that she could enter first. "After you," he murmured, gesturing inside welcomingly.

Her eyes immediately roamed across every surface, taking in the many valuable objects Mr. Gold had chosen to display in his home. Intricately crafted statues rested on pedestals and shelves while shimmering jewelry lined velvet cushions and deadly weapons were mounted to the walls. A spicy aroma that hung in the air tugged at her memories. She swallowed hard, not knowing how but still quite certain in the homesickness it stirred. She walked slowly across the hard wood floors, admiring their beauty, before noticing the stained glass windows. They glowed in the light of the setting sun, hues of red, green, and yellow capturing her eyes and swelling her heart with warmth.

"Do you like it?"

Mr. Gold's gentle voice came from directly behind Belle, startling her. She met his anxious expression with a smile, grasping his hand again. "It's beautiful. You really don't have to give me a place to stay though, I can't impose upon you any further—"

He loosened her grip from his arm, albeit gently so, and turned away from Belle. His stride was unsteady, much of his weight supported by the cane he leaned against. She was saddened by the sight of his frailty but did not dare ask what had happened to make him limp so.

"You could never impose upon me, dear. I have spare bedrooms so you may pick whichever you like best," he said tonelessly. Belle could sense Mr. Gold was struggling with some painful internal struggle, his finger stroking the length of a long, thin blade displayed on the foyer wall. When he turned around to look at her his eyes were kind but his expression pained. "All I ask is that you make yourself at home."

"Thank you, Mr. Gold." Belle's voice quivered with gratitude, and she hurried forward to grasp his hand in both of hers. "You've been so kind to me, even though you've had no reason to be. I'll help out in any way I can, I can clean the house for you." She saw his face darken, but he said nothing for a long moment. Finally he lifted a long lock of Belle's matted brown hair, gazing at it sadly.

"You will not have to do anything of the sort while you are here, Belle. You're my guest. Now let me show you where you can take a bath."

Trying to ignore the sudden surge of panic, Belle followed him up the stairs, her eyes constantly being pulled this way and that by the sights that hid behind half-opened doors as they passed them. When they arrived at the end of landing in the upstairs hallway Mr. Gold turned to face her again. She found herself gazing at him, an abrupt rush of longing replacing the panic that made her cheeks redden slightly.

"My room is here, to the right," he motioned to a closed door at the end of the hallway. "Directly across is the guest bathroom, and the two doors behind us are the two extra bedrooms. At the moment only one has a rather small bed and are filled with items of my own, but whichever you prefer I will clean out and make as a space for you."

The enormity of his generosity struck Belle dumb so she merely nodded. He opened the door to the bathroom.

Never had Belle seen anything so inviting. Everything was a pristine white and spaciously positioned so that she felt a lovely openness rather than claustrophobic. There was a shower much more luxurious than the one she had known and, in the right corner directly under a distorted glass window, a large, clawfoot bathtub.

"I'm sorry to say that I don't have much for, er, feminine products in this bathroom," Mr. Gold interrupted her reverie from behind her. She noticed he suddenly had items in his free arm- Belle hadn't realized he had even left." In truth I never have visitors to stay so I don't even have products here at all, but I can give you mine for now until we can get some you'd prefer." He held out a few bottles of shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and a wide-tooth comb. Belle took them and cradled them to her chest. "Also, I figured you wouldn't want to keep wearing what you have on so I brought you some of my old pajamas to wear, if you'd prefer."

Belle looked down at her clothing. She had completely forgotten she was still wearing the hospital clothing. She had worn them day in and day out for so long that she'd never truly paid them much mind. She accepted the folded pile of clothes from Mr. Gold and smiled shyly down at her feet, occasionally glancing up to meet his gaze. "Thank you very much."

There was an awkward, though not uncomfortable, silence for a few moments before Mr. Gold backed out of the bathroom. "I'll leave you to it, then."

"What? You mean I can bathe myself?" The words popped out of Belle before she could stop herself and she immediately regretted them, mortified. Mr. Gold froze for a fraction of a second before he looked over his shoulder at her. His expression was blank, and Belle hurried to try and explain. "They never let me wash myself at that place… They scrubbed me in a shower—It's just hard getting used to freedom, I didn't mean to ask you to do it for me…" Belle finally bit her lip to silence herself, looking anywhere but at Mr. Gold.

"No one will ever make you do anything you don't want to, Belle. Not anymore." His voice was soothing but she could detect anger underneath. "For now I'm going to head out to the store to pick up some things you will need now that you are staying here. I will be locking the door behind me, but feel free to explore the house until I return home."

"You're leaving?" Belle burst out, then berated herself again. She hadn't expected him to leave and, until that moment, had not realized she had been enjoying the idea that he would be in the house with her.

"I won't be long," he promised, smiling with a hint at knowingness that brought a new intensity to the lingering blush in Belle's cheeks. "And you will be perfectly safe, I promise you."

With that he left, the door snapping shut silently behind him. Belle turned her attention to the bathtub. She set the bottles down on the tile at the foot of the tub before peering intently at the nobs. Noticing the H and C and taking an educated guess as to their function, she twisted and adjusted them until the running water was hot to the touch. While it filled she pulled off her hospital clothes, throwing them unceremoniously into a corner and hoping sincerely that Mr. Gold would let her throw them away. She'd rather wear his old pajamas everyday than those reminders of that horrible place.

Her eyes lingered on the clothes he had given her and she traced a finger over the soft, gray heather fabric of the shirt. Realizing abruptly what she was doing, Belle quickly changed her train of thought to focusing on removing the knots from her hair. The process was painful and slow, and by the time she had finished her scalp was aching and there were large amounts of brown knotted hair in the trash bin. Even so she felt a certain triumph, and her hair was much softer against her face and neck. Turning her attention back to the tub Belle saw tendrils of steam twirling invitingly towards the ceiling. Slowly, Belle lowered a foot into the water.

The heat sent goose bumps erupting across Belle's skin but it felt so pleasurable that she quickly hoisted her other leg over the side of the tub, lowering herself into the basin until she was submerged up to her shoulders. Her body screamed in protest but her mind had already begun to relax as she dipped her head backwards into the water. She let her body float slightly, the tub being large enough for her to spread out the length of herself and still remain underwater. The experience was new to her yet familiar, and she wondered not for the first time how she had come to be in the hospital in the first place.

As early back as she could remember her awareness began in that dark, dingy room with only one small window to let in a margin of light. She could think of no one from before that time, and her clearest personal memories were of the blonde nurse who had come in to give her the medication that would make her drowsy, who gave Belle her meals and bathed her. Sometimes an unfamiliar woman's face would appear in a slot on the door keeping her barred in, but Belle had always chalked these appearances up to the medication they kept her on. The only reason she knew her own name was because Mr. Gold had told her. He seemed to know who she was, even if she herself didn't.

Belle sat up in the tub, anxious to distract herself. She reached over the side and grabbed the bottle of shampoo, pouring a generous dollop into her hand. It smelled clean and crisp like Mr. Gold himself, which pulled her lips into a grin. She lathered the liquid into her hair, eyes closed in enjoyment at the simple fact that she had all the time in the world to knead it into her scalp and pull it through the length of her hair. The tub, being aligned with the large mirror that took up much of the wall across the room, gave Belle sight of how her hair looked in a soapy updo. She giggled, the shock of which made her stop abruptly, watching her face in the mirror.

She couldn't remember having laughed before.

Shaking herself, Belle ducked her head underwater again, running her hands through her hair to rinse the shampoo out. The bathwater took on the aroma and soon Belle was surrounded by the scent of Mr. Gold. She found it rather pleasing and kept inhaling deeply so that she could store it to memory. After a few minutes she sat back up and looked over the side of the tub at the other two bottles. Conditioner was a foreign concept to her, but the directions told her it was to be applied after shampoo and would make her hair soft and shiny; a product for beauty, then.

While applying it to her hair Belle caught her expression in the mirror. There was sadness etched upon her face and the reason wasn't lost on her—Belle couldn't remember ever considering what it was to be beautiful. Was she? She could not compare herself to anyone else and had no idea what would be thought of as beautiful anyway.

"I wonder what he finds beautiful," Belle wondered aloud, her eyes on the pajamas sitting on the counter. Thinking that it shouldn't matter what Mr. Gold found beautiful, she hurriedly rinsed the conditioner out of her hair, and was pleasantly surprised by how soft it had indeed made her hair feel while just wet still. She then poured some of the body wash into her hands and rubbed herself clean. Not wanting to still be in the bath when Mr. Gold returned, Belle stood up and grabbed one of the towels from behind her to dry off with.

Even the towels in this man's house are elegant, she thought to herself admiringly as she gently patted her skin dry with the fluffy white cotton. She couldn't help but stare at herself in the mirror as she did so. Aside from when she had been showered and paid little attention, Belle had never seen her own body naked before; at least not in such detail. Having yet again no idea what the normal was, she felt only frustration with what she saw. In the end she averted her gaze, focusing instead on draining the bathwater and using the now-dirty towel to mop up the small puddles of water that had pooled while she bathed.

Satisfied the mess was reasonably well-cleaned, Belle reached for the pajamas and pulled the grey shirt on first. The shirt had apparently not been designed to be particularly baggy and it clung to her frame more snugly than she was used to. Another shock came to Belle when she noticed the two tiny bulges poking out from behind the shirt, and she plucked at the fabric self-consciously. The plaid pants, however, were comfortably loose on her.

Belle stepped timidly out of the bathroom into the hallway, peering around to see if she could hear anything. She had hoped that Mr. Gold had perhaps returned home and she'd simply not heard him, but the house sounded deserted. Since she had been given permission to explore his home, Belle walked to the room where she thought she had seen a mass of books. She was not disappointed.

Mr. Gold seemed to have collected as many books as he had trinkets and weapons. All of the walls were lined with shelves packed with volumes, some appearing to be so old they were nearly falling apart. She walked leisurely along the shelves, reading the titles until she found one very old, battered binding that read "Journey to the Center of the Earth," by an author called Jules Verne. Intrigued, Belle gently slid it out of the shelf and carried it downstairs to where she had seen a large, leather sofa when they'd first arrived.

A great contentment stole over Belle as she nestled herself down on the cushions and curled up with the book. She was soon thoroughly engrossed with her choice and did not notice the passing of time until a loud rap of knocks jolted her back to the present. Belle's first, excited thought was that Mr. Gold was home. Then she remembered that he of course had a key to his own home and would have no need to knock. Confused and with a small amount of trepidation, Belle cradled the book to her chest and went to the door.

"Who is it?" she called through the wood, feeling ridiculous when she remembered that she would have no idea who it was even if they answered.

"Hi! Is this Belle? I'm Mary Margaret. There are some of us here who would like to welcome you!"

Belle unlocked the door and opened it a crack, peering out. The sky was a pale pink and blue, telling her that it was nearing nightfall. Even so the brightness still blinded her a bit after having been in the dark house for so long. Squinting, Belle finally distinguished the three women who stood on the steps.

The woman in front was quite pale and had very short, dark hair. The one to the far right was very tall and thin, with long brown hair that had streaks of red in it and very shockingly red lips. In the middle was a woman who was about the same height as the first and had long, wavy blonde hair; she wore an expression that plainly said she was there humoring the other two, but didn't appear unkind.

"Hi!" The short-haired woman said rather breathlessly, and Belle recognized the voice as the one who had spoken through the door. "I'm Mary Margaret, this is Ruby," she motioned to the tall girl at the end, "and this is Emma," she finished, touching the arm of the girl in the middle.

"Hello," Belle replied politely, though a little nervously. "I'm Belle."

"We heard about how Regina had kept you trapped in that hospital basement, how horrible that must have been for you!" Mary Margaret's sweet voice shook with emotion and she wrung her hands together.

"Don't worry about Regina," the blonde said suddenly, her face filled with dislike. "We'll be dealing with her once we get the case built."

"Emma is the town sheriff," Mary Margaret answered Belle's look of confusion. "She's building a case against her and she'll go to jail for what she did, I promise you that."

"We thought you could use with some girl friends, and maybe a girl's night out," the brunette suddenly chimed in, her smile wide and friendly. "Would you want to join us this weekend for a day of shopping and then going to a club?"

Belle, having no idea what they had in mind with shopping or what they meant by going to a club, was nevertheless touched by the sincere concern and friendliness of the women—even if the blonde appeared less than excited by the proposed day in question—and smiled at them, opening the door wider so that she was standing fully in front of them.

"That would be lovely, thank you."

"Fantastic!" Mary Margaret exclaimed, clapping her hands together in obvious glee. "We'll come pick you up at around noon this Saturday. It was nice meeting you!" she added with a wave as the three women walked down the steps towards a bright yellow car (Belle remembered Mr. Gold explaining what it was when he'd driven them home in his own, black one). Belle waved back and then shut the door again. A weight she hadn't even known she carried on her chest seemed to leave with them, and it was with a small bubble of hope in its stead that she settled back down to continue reading her book.

* * *

Time seemed to have barely passed since the three women had left when she heard mismatched steps punctuated with a metallic chink approaching on the stairs. Looking up Belle realized that there was no more light at all streaming in through the stain glass, only the dim glow from the lamp behind her. Suddenly, inexplicably excited, Belle marked her place in the book and set it down, hurrying towards the door. When Mr. Gold walked in carrying a few bags in one hand, Belle found herself genuinely pleased to see him.

"Hello!" she said breathlessly. Mr. Gold smiled at her and shut the door behind him. She walked alongside him as he made his way across the room with the sofa.

"Hello, Belle," he said with an affection that made her beam. "Why was the door unlocked?"

"Oh, some women came and introduced themselves. I guess I forgot to lock it when they left."

"Did they now?" he inquired, his tone light but suddenly tense. "Who were they?"

"Mary Margaret, Emma, and Ruby, they said. They were very nice," she added as an after-thought, wondering why his face seemed so tight. However her words seemed to reassure him, and he smiled a bit as he set the bags down on a counter in the next room over.

"I see. Did you like them?"

"They seemed nice," she replied honestly. "They invited me to go out with them Saturday. To do some shopping and… something about a club?"

Mr. Gold laughed at that, but there was a slight edge as he did so. "Maybe a club isn't such a good idea. I'll have to make sure they will truly watch over you if you they plan on having you drink." Catching the look of confusion that Belle felt was now appearing far too often on her face, Mr. Gold grinned mischeviously. "Drinking alcohol is a dangerous past time even for the most seasoned of drinkers."

Still having no idea what he was talking about but not wanting to appear any more ignorant, Belle merely nodded and watched him begin to take things out of the bags.

"What is this room?" she asked suddenly, glancing around at all of the objects.

"This is the kitchen." To her relief Mr. Gold did not sound at all impatient with her. "This is where you make food."

"Oh," Belle said. She had no idea what anything in this room did. She made a mental note to ask him later how to make food here.

"I see my pajamas fit you well," he said suddenly, and Belle felt a flush creep into her face as his eyes raked swiftly over her form, doing the tiniest of double takes to where the shirt fit snugly across her chest. Unfamiliar with the pleasant sort of embarrassment this gave her, Belle reached up and ran her fingers through the ends of her hair to distract her hands from shaking.

"They do, thank you for them. My other clothes I was hoping I could throw away."

"Of course you can, dear. I don't want you ever to have to think of that place again." He reached out suddenly and ran a finger down her cheek. Some small part of herself—possibly instinct, she thought, having no experience othewrise—told her this sort of contact from a stranger should not be welcomed. Belle was thoroughly surprised by not only how much she enjoyed the act of affection, but by how normal it felt to her.

Then Mr. Gold dropped his hand and the moment was gone. Belle felt a pang of sadness when he turned away from her, his expression unreadable.

"Mr. Gold," she began hesitantly. She saw him pause for a moment with putting away some of the groceries before he turned to meet her eyes. "When I found you at your shop… That man who sent me to you knew something. You reacted very strongly to seeing me," she added in a small voice, not wanting to embarrass him by reminding him that he had cried. Mr. Gold appeared extremely unconcerned, however, so she carried on. "I just wondered… why. How do you know me when I can't even remember who I am?"

She watched Mr. Gold's dark brown eyes as they stared intently at her. He seemed to be soaking in her features, which nearly brought a renewal of pink to Belle's cheeks had she not been so absorbed in hoping he would answer her. When he finally spoke again his voice was unsteady and slow, as if he calculated every word before he said it.

"We knew each other before you were taken into that hospital. I had no idea you had been put there. I thought you had died," he finished. The muscles in his face twitched; he was struggling to maintain composure, she could tell. Belle approached him cautiously and placed a hand on his cheek. It was slightly scratchy from not having been shaved but soft and warm. The touch ignited something inside of her and she froze there, her eyes searching his.

"Why don't I remember any of this?" she whispered.

"It's… complicated," Mr. Gold finally dropped his gaze. He turned and began to walk towards the stairs again. Belle followed, her heart pounding in her chest. "Regina—the woman who put you there—is a powerful woman. The only person more powerful than her here is myself. She doesn't like being vulnerable and most likely took you to try and have control over me."

"And this woman Regina, did she affect my memory somehow?" Belle panted, hurrying up the stairs behind him.

"I believe she did," he said glumly as they reached the upstairs landing. "For tonight this will have to be where you sleep as it holds the only other bed." He added, opening the door on the middle right of the hall, which she knew to be on the other side of his own room.

Belle stepped inside. It seemed rather cramped because of the shelves of what she saw (to her great pleasure) contained even more books, but it was still much larger than the dark room she was so used to inhabiting. She turned towards Mr. Gold, grasping his hand in her own.

"I have no idea how to thank you for giving me a home." Belle could hear a strange emotion in her tone that she didn't fully recognize. "I am lucky that a man like you cares about what happens to me."

Mr. Gold smiled sadly at her and kissed her hand which held his. "I wish that were true, dear. Good night." He turned and limped out of the room and closed the door, leaving Belle perplexed and alone.

She stood there a moment, lost in a strange room, before finally flipping off the light switch and crawling into her new bed. Even thought it was no bigger than the one she was used to, it was infinitely more comfortable. She pulled the thick blanket up to her chin and lay there, staring blankly at the books lining the wall across from her. The day's events raced through her mind in a blur of confusion: an escape from her prison thanks to a man who's face she couldn't remember properly thanks to the medication; her wandering around town until she saw the name she had been given on a shop sign; finding Mr. Gold and his emotional reaction to seeing her. Everything from that point on became clearer in her mind, and she ran through the conversations over and over, each time her heart squeezing with happiness.

Three women she'd never known had sought her out in a friendly gesture, and Saturday she would get to go out with them and experience being with people and having fun. Mr. Gold had given her a home and security but, what was more, he had made her feel things she never had. Belle couldn't remember feeling much of anything that wasn't lethargy, hopelessness or depression. She had felt many new things that day which she had never dreamed possible.

And on the other side of that wall, she knew, he was there. She wondered what he was doing. Unbidden in her mind came an image of Mr. Gold changing into his own pajamas. Blushing furiously and chastising herself, Belle rolled over and soon fell into a peaceful sleep, oblivious to the footsteps retreating quietly from her door as she drifted off into dreams.


	2. Granny's

**9/25 Note**: I haven't forgotten this story, guys! I have just been so busy with school and work that by the time I go to type up chapter three (which I'd foolishly written in a notebook), I tend to just want to sleep. I should have it up within a few days, though. :)

* * *

_The shop bell tinkled to announce her arrival. Belle's eyes struggled to adjust to the sudden darkness as she peered around the shop with mild curiosity before noticing the man behind the counter. He faced her for but a moment and then his back was turned to her; she took a moment to absorb his tailored suit and shoulder length brown hair as he put something away out of her line of vision._

_"Excuse me, are you Mr. Gold?"_

_"Yes I am, but I'm afraid the shop's closed-" He froze, staring at Belle as if seeing a ghost. She walked towards him, steeling herself against the sudden rush of cowardliness attempting to throttle her._

_"I was told to find you and tell you that Regina locked me up," she said, realizing as she spoke how ridiculous she must sound. All the while he merely stared at her, his face frozen in some powerful emotion that Belle couldn't distinguish. "Does that mean anything to you?"_

_The man called Mr. Gold seemed to pull himself out of a deep reverie and reached a hand out towards her. Slightly alarmed but even more confused, she allowed him to grasp onto her shoulder. His grip was gentle but cautious, as if he doubted his senses, and it was with trembling fingers that he squeezed her flesh. "You're real," he whispered. "You're alive," he finished, but with sincere question in his tone. "She did this to you?"_

_Nonplussed, Belle plowed ahead with her message. "I was told you'd protect me," she said with uncertainty, thinking of how she would feel if she was forced to return to that cell. Then the man was moving towards her and she was lost in his embrace as he clutched her to his chest._

_"Oh yes," he said, nearly in tears. "Yes, I'll protect you."_

_Still bewildered, Belle felt something tugging at her memories. When they broke apart she couldn't shake the feeling that she should have known who he was but was unable to place how she could. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"_

_She realized immediately that the question struck him like a blow. His eyes watered and his lips trembled but he smiled with what could only have been satisfaction. "No, he said, his voice barely audible, "but you will."_

_Belle's mouth opened in silent surprise. This man knew her? He certainly seemed to care deeply that she was alive and there in his shop, but she could not remember a time before the hospital room. How could she have known this man and not known such a thing? Then again, how could she remember nothing of herself? She didn't even know her own name._

_"Do you know who I am?" she finally asked, wary._

_"You remember nothing?" strength returned to him as he stood there, drinking in her features with his damp eyes._

_"I don't even know my name," she admitted. The drugs were making it hard for her to concentrate and she hid her eyes with a trembling hand for a brief moment. "Only that dark room and the blonde nurse."_

_"You are Belle," he murmured, reaching out to touch a strand of her matted hair. "And you will come to stay with me."_

_Stunned at the vehemence in his voice, Belle tried to focus on the man's face but it was shifting. His irises were widening and shifting color at the same time his hair was filling out and gaining a curl, but it was when his skin suddenly changed tone to a scaly green with gold flecks and his teeth darkened that she backed away in fear. He walked towards her, his smile icy and not quite reaching his eyes as he reached out black-tipped fingers to grip her shoulders tightly. "You belong to me now."_

* * *

Belle jolted upright mid-scream, tangled amongst her sheets and her heart pounding in terror. Her skin was slick with sweat and the silken sheets were wrapped so tightly around her legs that she could not shift one way or another. She spent a few moments in a blind panic as she struggled to extricate herself from the linens before she finally gathered her bearings and remembered where she was. Breathing steadily, still trying to gain focus, she slid herself out of the mass of fabric and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She gripped onto the edge of the mattress and let her shoulders sag, breathing deeply to calm herself.

_A bad dream, no more_, she thought to herself in desperation. She was in a state of shock from her escape and she knew it. The drugs had still been in her system when she found Mr. Gold yesterday and the fact that he knew her though she didn't know _him_ frightened her. That would unnerve anyone. She didn't know if she could entirely trust him either, other than from the overwhelmed reaction of when he first saw her. That had seemed too sincere to be an act, so of course her dreams would torment her with her own anxieties. Even if the sight of that shimmering skin and overlarge, dark irises felt somehow to be the realest part of her dream it was obviously still just that—Mr. Gold was a man, not a monster. Besides, now that she was awake the details were slipping from her consciousness.

Restless, Belle slid off the bed and stood up to stretch her limbs. The pajamas Mr. Gold had lent her were damp with her sweat and she was just thinking she might take another shower when she felt a rumble in her stomach. She'd not eaten in over a day—Belle had completely forgotten about food in the excitement of the previous day's events. Plucking the shirt from her skin uncomfortably, she went to the bedroom door and placed her hand on the doorknob; she hesitated on it for a fraction of a second as she calmed the butterflies fluttering lightly in her belly. She opened it as quietly as she could and peered both ways down the hallway.

There was no sound from the rest of house. Belle's eyes glanced unconsciously to the door she knew belonged to Mr. Gold before she tiptoed down the stairs, hoping not to wake him if he was home. When she reached the bottom of the stairs and was facing the kitchen area, she saw on the clock that it read 11:23. Had she really slept so long? Slightly ashamed of herself, Belle approached the kitchen, wondering what all of the devices did until she noticed a folded letter propped up on the bar.

_"Belle—_

_Forgive me. I had to depart early this morning. You were sleeping so soundly that I couldn't bring myself to wake you._

_I am out on business, but I should be back just after noon to join you for lunch. I would prefer you not go out alone, as the town is much bigger than one might anticipate, but of course you are free to do so, should you wish. It is simply an advisement, neither a command nor a request."_

Belle paused to dwell on his words for a few moments. Her first, excited thought was that Mr. Gold would be coming home to visit her and that gave her a thrill she did not expect. Her next thoughts drifted to the warning he had given her. They were in fact not a direct command, but she remembered how the man who had freed her had told her to hurry to Mr. Gold, that he would protect her. For the first time Belle found herself wondering in earnest why she would need protection. Not wanting to dwell on worries, Belle read the rest of his letter which bore directions on how to go about preparing breakfast.

She smiled and gently replaced the letter to the counter. She followed his directions for making toast, startled when the pieces of bread snapped back up with a loud pop but delighted when she felt how crisp and hot they were. She buttered the slices generously and lay them on the waiting plate, then set about making tea with the bag of herbs Mr. Gold had left near the kettle. While it was boiling Belle turned her attention to the tallest, metallic object in the room and pulled the door towards herself. A cold rush of air swept past her and gave her the briefest of pauses before, as had been promised in the note, she found a platter of sliced plums on the topmost shelf. At the sight of the juicy, purple morsels her taste buds began salivating, and it was with great joy that she gathered the toast, tea and plums and sat herself in one of the barstools overlooking the kitchen. She allowed her eyes to take in the general layout of her new home as she chewed blissfully.

The kitchen was giant and pristine, though that seemed more from lack of use than from regular cleanings. The kitchen opened up to the living area where her book still sat on the leather sofa, waiting for her. That particular room was the largest on the floor, she noticed, and the focal points were the sofa, bookshelves lining the walls, and a strange, glassy piece of art mounted to the wall across from the sofa. Her gaze fell upon the open area to the left of where she sat and could tell that the intended purpose of the section was as a dining room, but he had set himself up an office instead. From the lack of any real mess or disorder to the house, Belle gathered that Mr. Gold must be a very organized man.

After she had finished with her breakfast, Belle carried her plate and bowl to the sink (the only device in the room she had instantly recognized) and washed them. She opened the cabinets one by one until she found the stack of matching china and set the clean ones on top. Once she had finished she turned and looked all around herself, hands on hips. What would she do today? Mr. Gold had said she didn't have to clean but she could think of nothing else to do besides reading and she didn't want to lounge just then. Belle wanted desperately to move around and expend all of the energy she could. With that thought she began searching his house for the cleaning supplies she knew must be around somewhere. She got lucky and the first place she checked—the cabinets under the sink—held chemicals that promised to clean the various places of a home. Some of the object names were unfamiliar to her and it was only thanks to the pictures on the labels that she was able to deduce which items they were for.

_His house isn't that dirty_, she thought as she finished cleaning the sink with a bottle labeled as bleach, which she found very useful as it claimed to clean nearly everything. She wondered if he had someone come in and clean for him, like a maid. That thought gave Belle a jolt and she let her hand go still for a moment, clutching the paper towel as she considered this. For some reason the idea of Mr. Gold with a maid stirred another, unfamiliar emotion in her and she dwelled on it a bit, trying to figure out what it could be. When it struck her, Belle laughed for the second time in two days, which brought about a ceaseless bout of more, harder laughter pouring out of her. She ended up clutching her sides as she slid to the ground, her laughter slowly fading away but the smile remaining on her face.

What reason would a person have to be jealous of someone's maid? _Mr. Gold can have a pretty little maid if he wishes, _she thought to herself. Shaking her head and with her mood considerably lightened, Belle pulled herself to her feet and spent the rest of the morning cleaning every surface she could reach, save for his displayed items. With those she only dared to dust them, which seemed the safest action considering she had no idea the proper method of cleaning antiques. She was in the middle of swatting dust from the curtains in the living room when there was a knock on the door.

Belle froze mid-swing, staring at the door in surprise. Mr. Gold hadn't mentioned anyone coming by in his note. Then again, the three women from before had come by solely to ask her if she wanted to go out with them. Her nervousness lessening at the memory, Belle approached the door, still clutching the broom in her hands. "Yes, who is it?"

"Hey Belle, it's Emma. Emma Swan. We met yesterday."

Belle unlocked the door and opened it, surprised even further. There stood the blonde woman who had seemed the least interested in her of the three, and Belle saw that her expression was indeed rather stoic. Still she smiled somewhat awkwardly at Belle, who greeted her with a shy "Hello again, Emma."

"May I come in?" Belle's fingernails subconsciously began to tap on the doorframe, unsure of how to answer. On the one hand she so badly desired the company, but on the other she didn't know how Mr. Gold would feel about someone coming inside, and it was his house, after all. "I promise I won't shoot you or steal anything," the woman added with a grin after a few moments of Belle's inner dilemma.

"Of course," Belle finally replied, opening the door wider. She noticed Emma carried a large, navy blue bag in her hands as she crossed the threshold, waiting for Belle to close and lock the door. "How are you today?" she asked, deciding polite small talk was as good an option as any to begin a conversation.

"Good, thanks," Emma laughed. "I was on patrol and decided I would swing by and see how you were faring." Belle noticed Emma had said this far too cheerfully and was pleased at the suspicion that she had not merely just been in the neighborhood. "Yesterday would have been overwhelming for anyone. Oh, and we thought you might be in need of some clothes so we pooled our closets for extras." Emma held out the bag.

Belle stared at the outstretched hand for a moment, stunned, before she reached out and took the bag. She set it down on the sofa and unzipped it with shaking fingers before beginning to pull out the clothes: a few shirts, a couple pairs of blue jeans, and even a pretty yellow sundress, then a pair of sandals and a pair of sneakers. Touched, Belle looked up at Emma and found herself smiling like a fool and her eyes wet with gratitude.

"Thank you so much, Emma. I appreciate it, I really do."

"Yeah well, it's not much but we couldn't have you walking around in Mr. Gold's pajamas everyday could we?" Emma laughed in a tone that made it quite clear she was not used such emotional moments. Belle noticed that the awkwardness didn't reach Emma's eyes, however; she seemed at least a little pleased that Belle was so happy. "Speaking of, how is he treating you?" Emma leaned against the back of the sofa, watching Belle closely.

"He's been very kind to me," Belle responded sincerely. She could see the badge glinting on Emma's belt and remembered that she was speaking to the town sheriff.

"He is, is he?" Belle caught the merest trace of disbelief in Emma's tone. "He didn't… make you come here or force you to stay with him, did he?"

Belle felt her mouth fall open at the open accusation in Emma's tone. She quickly regained her composure and forced herself to speak gently, trying to remember that her appearance in the town must have been accompanied by rumors that would certainly have reached the town sherriff's ears. "Of course he didn't make me. I was told to go to him because he would protect me, and that is exactly what he did. He remembers who I am."

"He does?" A frown not so much of disbelief but of deep thought pulled at the corner of Emma's lips. "Interesting, considering no one else seems to."

"I believe him, if you're trying to say that he's lying," Belle said rather coolly.

Emma's eyes snapped back to Belle's and a genuinely apologetic grin softened her features. "I wasn't thinking he was lying, I am just impressed that he's taken you in. No one has ever gotten under Mr. Gold's skin before, at least according to the townsfolk."

Belle considered this for a moment. She had yet to meet anyone else in the area but she couldn't see how they could be so surprised at his gesture of hospitality. Mr. Gold had been exceedingly kind to Belle herself, and she was sure Emma must be exaggerating to some extent. Then Belle wondered why she was being so defensive of what people thought of Mr. Gold to begin with.

"Say, would you like to go out for lunch? Granny's has great burgers." Emma's smile was infectious and Belle found herself so enjoying being in her company that she almost immediately nodded. Then she remembered Mr. Gold's note and hesitated. He had said that he would be back for lunch and not to go to town anyway, though had made a point of clarifying that he was just making a suggestion. However he had specifically said this in reference to going into town alone, and if she was in the sheriff's company surely she would be safe? This Regina woman couldn't harm her when she was with the town law, could she? Belle wasn't even sure the woman _did_ want to harm her.

Catching Belle's apprehension, Emma grinned conspiratorially. "Don't worry, if Regina tries to kidnap you I will punch her right in the ovaries."

Belle laughed at that, and it was such a wonderful relief that she couldn't imagine how she had gone so long without it in her life. "Alright, can I take a quick shower first? I've been cleaning all morning."

"Sure, I'll just sit here and watch some TV." Emma flopped down on the sofa and grabbed a small, rectangular black object from the small table at the end. She pressed on it and the glassy, black object mounted on the wall Belle had taken for an odd mirror or strange piece of art suddenly burst into life. She saw people inside of it, heard them a clearly as if they were standing right beside her. "Have you never seen a TV before?" Emma asked her after a moment, watching her incredulously.

Belle shook her head, both fascinated and slightly alarmed by the device. "I'll—I'll go take my shower." She hurried off, wondering what else she had missed out on in the world while locked in her cage.

* * *

Twenty minutes later Belle had written a note explaining where she was going and inviting Mr. Gold to join them before joining Emma in the latter's bright yellow, rather odd looking car. She watched from the passenger side seat as the town passed them by much faster than she could have thought possible. Emma said nothing the whole way, but instead hit a button on the dash and loud music blared from all around them. The music was unlike Belle had ever known—though in truth when Belle reflected on this, she couldn't remember any particular music at all, only that it was, in fact, music. Still she found herself bouncing her head along to the rhythm. When Emma notice this she smiled over at her. Belle returned one shyly and was glad to find that their silence was an amiable one.

In what felt like only a few minutes Emma was parking alongside the street in the middle of the town square, directly alongside a place that read "Granny's Diner." Belle exited the car and self-consciously tugged at the dress she wore as they walked towards the entrance. The weather was rather chilly and her arms and legs erupted in goose bumps, but she had felt more comfortable wearing a dress than the constricting jeans. Emma opened the door and walked in, followed closely by a clearly nervous Belle.

Immediately all conversation in the diner ceased. Every eye had turned to stare at Emma and then at Belle, who found herself flushing underneath the scrutiny. She was immensely grateful to Emma when she spoke loudly, ignoring the stares. "Hey Ruby, is it your lunch time yet?"

Belle started, realizing that behind the counter stood the girl with the long, brown and red hair she had met the day before. Ruby looked over at the older woman behind the register, who shrugged, and pulled off her apron so that she could come around and join them at the table Emma had sat down at. Belle followed suit and smiled shyly at Ruby, who positively beamed at her as she sat down. The conversation level had crept back up in the diner again, though Belle noticed eyes kept darting over to where they all sat.

"Belle, hi! I didn't expect to see you out on the town already."

"Emma stopped by and invited me out," Belle responded politely. The stares were unnerving her.

"Don't mind them," Ruby murmured. "This town is so small that any gossip is blown way out of proportion. You're the current big news."

"Me?" Belle repeated in surprise. "Why?" She noticed that Emma was staring around at the people as if to challenge them, and all of them looked away again when they found themselves under her gaze.

"Because everyone knows you escaped Regina's little prison she'd set you up in, and Regina herself is sort of the town villain now for doing so. Everyone is curious about you." Emma nodded in thanks to the elderly woman, who had approached with three mugs of hot chocolate.

Belle took hers gratefully and smiled up at the woman. "Thank you."

"No problem, dear. And don't you mind these people staring, they're all just busybodies. Would you like something to eat?"

"Oh no thank you, I already ate breakfast."

Granny took the other two's orders (Emma requested a cheeseburger and fries, Ruby a hot ham and cheese sandwich with a pickle on the side) and left. Ruby watched Belle, unabashed curiosity lighting up her face in such an innocent way that Belle couldn't bring herself to be bothered by it.

"So is the girl's night this Saturday still on?" Emma inquired abruptly, her tone too casual to be entirely believable.

"Hell yes," said Ruby, grinning maliciously. "And you've already agreed so don't you try backing out. That includes trying to say that you got called in on an emergency; Mary Margaret already made sure you had coverage that night."

"Of course she did." Emma's face darkened but she didn't argue, instead using her cinnamon stick to absent-mindedly stir the ice water Granny had just dropped off for them all. "I'm never any good with girl nights."

"Well it's not like it's hard work," Ruby laughed. "Go shopping with us, get a cute dress and heels, and then we'll all get drunk."

"I hate wearing heels," Emma muttered, more to herself than either Belle or Ruby.

"Mr. Gold said that drinking can be dangerous," Belle volunteered, both out of the desire to be part of the conversation and because she wondered if he had been joking. To her surprise Emma and Ruby grinned at each other. Belle's eyes darted between the two of them and when they'd said nothing, she leaned forward. "Is it?"

"If you drink too much alcohol, it can be." Emma set down her glass. "I mean it's not like we're going to let you drive or anything, that's the biggest danger. As long as you don't drink too much and drink plenty of water as well, you should be fine."

"And as long as you don't hook up with anyone," Ruby added with a grin. Emma threw a nasty look at her but Belle merely watched them both, still confused.

"Hook up?"

"You know… have a one-night stand." Ruby leaned forward, obviously enjoying the track their conversation had gone down. Belle gazed at her blankly, truly lost.

"Have sex," Emma interrupted, causing Ruby to throw her a look of one being deprived a treat and Belle to feel a flush creep into her face.

"Oh," was all she could think to say.

Ruby laughed, not unkindly, and leaned back in her chair to sip her cocoa. Belle pulled the mug of her own into her hands, enjoying the warmth against her chilled fingers before Ruby blurted out, "So what's Mr. Gold like in bed?"

Belle choked on her cocoa, sputtering as the hot liquid scalded her throat and burnt paths up her sinus cavities and down her esophagus. Immediately Emma was behind her, patting her hard on the back until Belle pulled in a shuddering breath, her eyes watering from pain. The coughing continued to rack her body until finally her airway was cleared and she could accept the ice water that Ruby held out towards her. Assured that Belle was alright, Emma sat back down in her seat and shot a look at Ruby, who looked equally concerned but supremely unabashed as Granny came bustling up, carrying a tray laden with the two meals.

"I wouldn't know," Belle finally choked out, her face burning from more than just the hot cocoa.

"Really? We thought—" Ruby quickly changed track at a look from Emma. "We thought that you might have an idea," she finished somewhat lamely.

"I… I don't know even know how he knows me. I honestly don't remember anything from before the hospital. He knew my name, though."

Emma and Ruby exchanged looks but said nothing as they began to eat their lunches. Belle took a long draft of the ice water to soothe her aching throat and then set it back down, letting herself look around the diner again. Every person she looked at seemed to immediately become interested in something else and hurriedly turned their eyes away. Suddenly feeling quite alone, Belle began to wish she were elsewhere. Things were only made worse when, unbidden, the images of Mr. Gold and herself Ruby had hinted at flashed through her mind. Struggling to maintain her calm expression, she only faintly heard the door to the diner open. She was still struggling to purge her mind of what Ruby had implanted in it when a soft, accented voice spoke behind her.

"Good afternoon, ladies."

Belle jumped and turned around to see Mr. Gold standing behind her, leaning on his cane and smiling benignly at them. Emma met his gaze resolutely and Belle thought there might have been a hint of defiance in her eyes before it was gone again, and she smiled politely at him. Ruby on the other hand was gazing rather oddly at Mr. Gold: her mouth was slightly open and she looked unable to speak to him, but unable to look away either. Belle's heart leapt from her chest and up into her throat when his gaze returned to smile down at her.

"Hello, Mr. Gold," Belle replied faintly. Emma gave an odd little motion of recognition with her index and middle finger to him while Ruby merely continued to stare. Rather breathlessly, Belle added "I'm glad you got my note, Emma invited me out to lunch. Would you like to join us?"

"Oh no, I wouldn't want to intrude on girl talk." The smile Mr. Gold gave the other two was as polite as ever but Belle noticed a perceptible change in the atmosphere at the table after the words were said. "I'd merely come here to see if you'd do me the honor of joining me for the rest of lunch."

Belle detected no chastisement in his tone, but felt her pulse quicken anyway. Had she upset him by leaving the house when he'd wanted to come home to join her for lunch? Perhaps because she'd left for town when he'd recommended she didn't? Emma stood up suddenly and stretched, patting her belly appreciatively. "Well I have to get back to the station, Belle. Thanks for coming to lunch. See you later, Ruby. Thanks for the food, Granny!" she called out as she dropped her money on the table and walked out of the diner.

Ruby was on her feet in an instant, mumbling something about getting back to work as she gathered the plates and hurried away from the table. Belle noticed that where everyone had been glancing over at them for the past half an hour, everyone in the diner now seemed to be trying very hard to pretend that they didn't exist. Belle stood up and smiled at Mr. Gold warmly. "Thank you for the breakfast instructions, they were very helpful."

Mr. Gold laughed softly and dropped some cash on the table before offering her the arm not leaning against his cane. Belle accepted it and allowed him to lead her out of the diner. Now that the sedatives and shock of the day prior had worn off Belle found herself acutely aware of the small things she had not noticed before, such as how strong and steady his arm was as she clutched lightly to it, despite his uneven gait.

"Are you taking me home?" she asked sadly. She couldn't imagine being cooped up in the house all day when she had now seen the streets lined with little shops and places to explore. Belle couldn't help but notice his expression flitted for a moment to surprise at her last word, but then he was smiling again.

"Not if you don't want to. If you'd like I could close the shop for the day and show you around the town."

Belle's joy was instantaneous. She felt a smile light up her face and immediately clung more tightly to his arm, leaning in as close to him as she could without feeling she was being too forward. "That would be wonderful!"

Mr. Gold smiled somewhat uncertainly at Belle's enthusiasm. Hoping she hadn't made him uncomfortable, she willed herself to loosen her grip and walk alongside him in cheery silence as they strolled down the street. They turned two more corners before Belle recognized the sign she had seen the day before, advertising Mr. Gold's antique shop. There was a woman standing underneath the sign, her body turned so that Belle could only make out short, dark hair and a long, elegant cream coat overtop black, loose-legged trousers.

Instantly Mr. Gold held out his arm in front of Belle, who was forced to stop abruptly so that she didn't walk into his outstretched arm. She glanced up at his face, curious, and immediately felt a thrill of foreboding at the cold fury contorting his features. Bewildered, Belle turned back to see the woman under his sign had turned to face them.

Belle took three hasty steps backwards, her heart racing in terror as recognition dawned on her. The corner of the woman's red lips lifted in a cold grin as she took in the sight of them both. Mr. Gold remained standing protectively in front of Belle and did not move as the three of them remained rooted to the spot, frozen momentarily into silence. Then the woman spoke in a sultry voice that sent a shiver down Belle's spine.

"Hello, Mr. Gold. Belle," she added with a subtle hint of mockery when her eyes focused on Belle's form half-hidden behind him.

Mr. Gold approached her slowly, keeping Belle firmly under his grip as they got closer. The woman Belle realized must be Regina did not move, remaining standing directly in front of the door to the antique shop until Mr. Gold finally motioned for Belle to stop a good ten feet away. He then closed the distance between himself and Regina, so close to her that Belle knew a moment of fear; for which person she couldn't say.

"What do you want?" he finally said, every syllable icy with loathing.

"Just to see how you and your long lost… friend are faring," she purred. The smile she fixed on Belle chilled her. "Also to remind you that it would be unwise to turn against me."

Mr. Gold's knuckles turned white as he gripped his cane, and Belle wondered if he was not suppressing the urge to beat the woman with it. When he spoke, his voice was carefully measured. "You chose your allies long ago, _your majesty_. Now leave us."

Belle remained rooted to her place some ten feet away from them, barely registering the oddness of their conversation because she could feel the rage and hate emanating from both sides. After a few very long, tense moments, Regina took a final step towards Mr. Gold; they were so close they appeared almost to be kissing. When she spoke Belle could only just hear her.

"Remember what happens to the people who side against me, Spinner."

"I said leave. _Please_."

The woman's cheek twitched. She threw him a look of pure menace before turning it upon Belle, who recoiled at the sheer intensity of it. "I suspect we'll be meeting again very soon, my dear."

With that the woman turned the corner and was gone, leaving Mr. Gold standing where he was with his back still to Belle. She noticed he trembled slightly and approached him cautiously, placing a hand upon his shoulder. He started and did a turnaround, then relaxed when he saw Belle's face. He cupped her cheek with his hand as his eyes roamed over her face, as if storing it to memory.

"I'm guessing that was the woman who held me captive. Not very nice, is she?" Belle's attempt to lighten the mood was painfully transparent, but it nonetheless brought a tremulous smile to Mr. Gold's thinned lips. "Why did she call you Spinner?" Belle asked wildly, the first burning question to escape her lips. His face tightened and he let his hand drop from her face.

"How about we go shopping for your new things? Perhaps items to make you comfortable in your new room, and I daresay you could use some more clothes," he added, eyeing the donated sundress with a lingering gaze that suddenly made it feel invisible. An odd swooping sensation to the pit of her stomach created a domino effect and suddenly Belle felt quite warm even in the chilly air.

Belle wanted more than anything to keep asking questions but the expression on Mr. Gold's face made perfectly clear that he would not discuss the exchange any further. Nodding, she watched him unlock the shop, reach inside and flip the sign from "Gone to Lunch" to "Closed" before offering his arm again. Belle took the proffered forearm with her hands and allowed him to lead her down the road towards the heart of town again, lost once again in her own thoughts.

She could remember through the haze of sedation the occasional snapping sound from her hospital room door that signaled the appearance of a stranger's face in the viewing area. Only now could she place a person to the face, and she remembered with a pang of fear the smugness apparent on that same face every time it came to watch her, and the anguish on Mr. Gold's face when he saw Belle for the first time.

Belle shuddered, clutching rather closer to Mr. Gold than before and so caught up in her own thoughts that she didn't notice the shadow of a grin her sudden grip brought to his lips.


	3. Domesticity

_A/N: I'm so sorry in the delay with this chapter, guys. School and work have sapped me of almost all of my time so that I've only had the stamina to write my one-shot Miss Roseman's Debauching, and fill a prompt for a friend from Tumblr, Precious Things. I hope you can find it in your hearts to forgive my laziness. :)_

* * *

Night had fallen by the time Belle and Mr. Gold had ended their shopping spree and were pulling themselves into Mr. Gold's driveway, the trunk crammed with the purchases he had insisted upon buying for her. For her own part Belle had tried in vain to beg them off, not wanting to be in any sort of debt to him that she had no money with which to pay him back. The look he had given her was one of such sincere hurt that Belle had finally conceded defeat and, resigned, allowed herself to be spoiled.

Mr. Gold parked the Cadillac and stepped outside. Belle quickly followed suit and helped him to unload the bags from the packed trunk, shaking her head at the sheer volume of all he had maintained that she had dire need of. They lumbered up the porch steps awkwardly, pausing only long enough for him to unlock the front door and then promptly unload everything onto the sofa. Exhausted from the long day, Belle flopped down next to the bags and sighed fondly, allowing her weight to sink into the cool leather.

"I'll bring everything upstairs once my arms have regained feeling." Belle called to Mr. Gold as he passed behind the sofa and into the kitchen, setting the bags of groceries on the counter.

"No rush, dearie. I'll start on dinner."

"You can cook?" Belle asked, surprised. She pulled herself to her feet and hurried over to join him in the kitchen.

"Such a tone of surprise," he grinned at her as he set the bag of potatoes onto the island. "Do you think me so incapable?"

There was little bite to his words and Belle found herself rather enjoying being on the brunt end of his wit. Rolling her eyes playfully as she leaned her weight against the island, her arms stretched out luxuriously across the smooth, cold marble, she watched as Mr. Gold unloaded the groceries. When she noticed him removing the bag of the sweet potatoes they'd purchased she straightened up, peering over at them with interest. "Can I help? You did say you'd show me how to cook."

"That I did," Mr. Gold conceded. He removed a large, white bowl from underneath the island and placed it under the running sink faucet, dropping four medium-sized sweet potatoes inside. "Would you like to be in charge of the mashed potatoes? You can start by peeling them." He held out a strange little knife that Belle had never seen before.

"Sure," she replied with a hint of uncertainty as she accepted the strange blade, inspecting it. Noticing her confusion, Mr. Gold smirked and gently removed it from her hands. "Watch."

She did as he bid, her eyes following as he removed a potato from the water bowl and raked the blade down the length of it. A long thread of brown skin was fed smoothly out the other side and plopped into the bowl of water, leaving a perfectly bare stripe of orange in its stead. Delighted, Belle took the potato and peeler back from Mr. Gold. She repeated his motions, gripping the blade in her hand as he had instructed. Soon she had a perfectly peeled sweet potato in her hand and felt a smug, somewhat ludicrous sense of accomplishment as she set about cutting the potato up into one-inch cubes.

"You're a natural." Belle actually flushed with pleasure as Mr. Gold leaned over to watch her enthusiastic progress for a minute. He then returned his attention to the two salmon filets he'd removed from the paper bag and cut open the plastic wrap that kept them fresh.

"I think I used to enjoy cooking, before… that place." Belle could not think of what to call her former prison without dragging down the cheerful mood. She began to peel the rest of the potatoes, going faster and more smoothly as she became accustomed to the process. "I think I must have been very domestic. I actually had fun cleaning the house earlier today."

"Did you?" Mr. Gold's voice was suddenly clipped, leaving Belle fretting over whether her words had somehow upset him. She didn't see how they could when all she had brought up was her domesticity.

"Maybe I was just a maid or something?" she added in what she meant to be a jaunty tone, hoping it would alleviate the tension that held his shoulders rigid. "It would explain why household chores are all I've found myself to be good at," she laughed rather desperately. To her horror she saw him freeze for the briefest of moments as he poured lemon juice into a small bowl, then the moment was gone when he turned to watch Belle dropping the freshly peeled and cubed sweet potatoes into the pot of boiling water he'd prepared for her.

"I doubt you could ever be just a maid." There was no mistaking the chill to his tone and, deciding now was not the time to go down that line of conversation, she focused on watching Mr. Gold as he stood marinating the salmon with the fragrant mixture he had just stirred, his back still turned to her. "How are you enjoying your stay so far?"

"Very much, thank you." Belle answered carefully. His mood shift had startled her, and she had the vague idea she might be walking into a verbal trap. "Your house is beautiful and full of so much interesting stuff. And so many books!" she burst out with pleasure as she remembered the rows upon rows of books throughout the house.

"You like to read?" She watched as Mr. Gold wrapped the fish in the tin foil and set them on a pan, then pushed the pan in the oven and set a timer. When he finally turned back to face her, his smile was composed.

"I love reading. You have so many books here and on subjects I've never even heard of; I've made it my goal to read all of them if I can!" she found herself floundering under the intensity of the hypnotic gaze he held on her before adding, rather sheepishly, " I'm very happy here."

"Then I'm happy, Belle. You seem to be making friends easily."

Belle thought back on the lunch date with Emma and Ruby earlier that afternoon and said nothing as she watched without seeing the bubbling pot of potatoes on the stove. They were indeed very friendly with her and Belle found herself glad of the kindness, but the disturbing thought of that spiraling silence and the unabashed stares greeting Belle's entrance to the diner still haunted her.

"People seem frightened of me," she admitted sadly. Mr. Gold regarded her for a moment before approaching hesitantly. When he reached out a hand to cup her face, Belle did not pull away but leaned into his touch, her eyes searching his for the reassurance she so desperately craved. Why she sought it from him so readily didn't even cross her mind as his eyes locked on hers, and she lost herself in those dark irises.

"They don't fear you, child. They fear Regina and her wrath. This town long ago learned not to cross paths with the mayor."

Belle struggled to believe his words, though the notion of someone—especially the woman they'd met earlier by Mr. Gold's shop-directing their wrath towards her was not a comforting one. "Emma said the town is frightened of you, too." Belle couldn't quite mask the guilt coloring her tone at this confession, but she had to know. To her astonishment, Mr. Gold did not deny this claim but instead grinned impishly, allowing his hand to fall back to his side.

"They do. They fear me perhaps more than they fear even Regina."

Belle heard a note of pride in his words and felt her mouth drop open as the impact of his words washed over her. "But why should they fear you? You are a kind and generous-you took in a stray girl and have done all you can to help her get back on her feet! Surely they see this side of you?"

"Ah," he exhaled the word, focusing on Belle's face with a scrutiny that sent a few, dormant butterflies erupting into life in her belly. "They've quite convinced themselves that you've jumped from the pot and landed in the fire, my dear."

Indignation at the sheer injustice of his words unnerved Belle. Her brow furrowed and she unconsciously began to chew at her bottom lip: was this why people regarded her with such fear in town? Even Ruby had fled when Mr. Gold arrived at the diner that afternoon. Only Emma seemed unaffected by his seeming notoriety.

"They're wrong." The words were barely audible once they'd escaped her lips but Belle knew them to be resolutely true. How she knew this so firmly when she barely knew this man was a mystery to her but she believed to her very core that Mr. Gold meant her no harm. "You'd never hurt me."

The smile that tugged at Mr. Gold's thin lips in what Belle initially took to be a patronizing way, but when he spoke she realized that he merely didn't believe the truth behind her words. "I'm afraid just being associated with me is damaging to you, Belle. You will be treated differently just for staying here."

"Then let them treat me differently!" she exclaimed with a vehemence quite unfamiliar to Belle. Her heart was racing and all she knew was that she couldn't stand the matter-of-fact way in which Mr. Gold seemed to believe that what others thought carried any value. "I chose to come here. You offered me the assistance but I was the one who chose to accept it. And you can try to act like this is all amusing to you but I remember your expression when you first saw me at your shop." Belle saw Mr. Gold's face tighten at her words. "That is not the reaction of a man who would do anything to harm me."

Her fiery speech over, Belle found the fury that had sprouted so abruptly ebb and a flush of embarrassment creep in its place. She hadn't meant to raise her voice-especially not to the very man she was trying to defend- but the thought of the town regarding Mr. Gold so disparagingly when all he wanted to do was help Belle upset her. When she looked up again Mr. Gold was beaming at her with…was she imagining, or was there pride in his eyes?

"You're quite right," he admitted. "I would never intentionally harm you. That does not change how the town views the situation, though."

Something in his tone gripped Belle's insides in a vice. Her breathing escalated, afraid to know but unable to keep herself from asking the question that she knew he'd intended her to. "Situation?" she repeated faintly.

The expression on Mr. Gold's face confused belle at first, and then she realized he was staring at her with the look of one cradling an explosive in their fingertips. "Let's just say that this move-in is considered wildly inappropriate."

Ruby's inquiry as to what Mr. Gold was like in bed burst into Belle's mind. She felt her cheeks burning as comprehension dawned on her. _They think that I… that we…_

Oh, God. What did Belle know of any of _that_? Perhaps in a previous life, long-since forgotten, she might have had experience in the matter but no more. Without even meaning to Belle found her thoughts drifting to her own imaginings as she lay in bed the night prior, when she had wondered about Mr. Gold stripping off his clothes to change into pajamas. Even those tentative steps in that direction had felt alien to her. How could anyone think her a libertine?

A loud beeping rang out in the kitchen, startling Belle out of her panicked reverie.

"It's just the alarm, dearie." Belle watched Mr. Gold limp towards the stove and pull on a pair of thick, cotton gloves to safely take the hot pan out and set it on the glass surface. Belle could smell the savory aroma of salmon baked in garlic and lemon and, remembering that all she'd eaten that day was the fruit he'd prepared for her breakfast, felt her mouth watering in anticipation. She hurried over to the stove and checked the status of the boiling potatoes. They were soft and mushy, so she took the gloves Mr. Gold had shed and used them to remove them from the stove, pouring them delicately into the strainer waiting in the sink, careful to avoid the rising steam.

Mr. Gold appeared directly behind her. She felt her body shiver slightly as he reached around her to set a platter of butter and container of milk alongside the brown sugar and cinnamon, his chest brushing against her back so faintly that Belle found herself bewildered as to how she would react so strongly to such a faint touch. Hiding her pink cheeks behind her hair, she removed the potatoes from the sink with a quiet "thank you," and poured them into the empty bowl on the counter. Mr. Gold had set a strange, metal object alongside it. Not wanting to look a fool, Belle picked up the device and, taking an educated leap, began to use it to mash the chunks of sweet potato.

Slightly smug in her satisfaction, she poured a generous amount of brown sugar and butter, added a few dashes of cinnamon milk, and then smashed the potatoes until they were creamy and smooth. She then used her pinkie to taste the results and, satisfied, turned back to Mr. Gold.

"They're done!"

Mr. Gold limped over and reached his own finger in, tasting it. When he lazily slid his finger out of his mouth, Belle realized she had been gawking at the motion and turned back to the potatoes, cursing her cheeks for so easily giving her away.

"Very good," he announced. Belle could hear the smile on his lips and kept her face firmly hidden from sight as he passed her a turquoise, ceramic plate. She accepted it gratefully, using the big wooden spoon to portion a hefty dollop of the mashed sweet potatoes to her plate as Mr. Gold used a fork and spatula to place her salmon filet next to mound. She waited for him to serve himself, unsure of where they were going to eat, before following him around the counter so that they could sit on the bar facing the kitchen.

The quiet rapport as they ate was extremely comfortable, Belle thought as they both picked up their silverware and began to eat. The food really was delicious, and Belle felt a rather silly pride in her contribution to the meal. She could not remember having ever cooked before but was unsurprised to find that she greatly enjoyed the process. The silence was not awkward but Belle felt curiosity creeping into being after a few minutes of the mutual quiet, and soon found herself glancing over at Mr. Gold every few seconds. She felt no hesitation at all with eating in front of him, which struck her as rather odd considering her general tendency towards shyness. Some small part of her had the notion that eating meals with him was the most natural thing in the world.

"Did Regina mean what she said earlier? About you two becoming enemies?" Belle knew she could be ruining the easy peace by bringing up the encounter, but she could no longer bear the confusion and curiosity.

"Certainly, she did," Mr. Gold said evenly, savoring a mouthful of the sweet potatoes before swallowing so he could explain further. "She is not one to take offence lying down."

"Why did she keep me locked up for all these years?"

Mr. Gold did not answer right away this time, choosing instead to pick with his fork at the half-eaten salmon on his plate. "She wanted power over me. Taking you was the only way she could get it."

Heart thudding uncomfortably in her chest, Belle listlessly stirred her potatoes, staring through the table and sorting through her memories. Try as she might, nothing other than the hospital room surfaced. "Why would I be a weapon against you?"

After what felt an eternity of strained silence, Mr. Gold finally met her eyes. He seemed to be battling a painful internal dilemma and Belle waited breathlessly, hoping she would finally learn more about her own past. When he spoke again his voice was brittle and unsure.

"Your father was in need of my help. In exchange for my aid, I asked to take you in as an apprentice of my trade with antique dealing. Your father recognized this as a more than fair trade off. We make good money," he added, noting the confusion curving Belle's lips. "I needed someone I could train as my successor. Your father knew it would be a better life for you if you came with me, so he agreed. After awhile you and I became—close," he finished in a colorless tone.

_Close_. Belle licked her lips nervously and wondered at the many different meanings that word held, and which one of them related to her—their-past. Was she like an adopted daughter to him? A beloved niece?

_Lover?_ A devious voice in her mind whispered ruthlessly.

"So Regina…"

"She envied the power I held over the people in this town. In marking me as an uneasy ally on the surface but constantly battling against each other's' will, the whole town believed us to be on the brink of a civil war, so to speak. To this day I'm not sure who they would fear more as their leader, Regina or myself." Mr. Gold paused for a moment, lost in thought. "Then one day she came and told me that you had died in a tragic accident and that there was no body left to bury. And being the fool I was, I believed her," he added bitterly.

"But she'd really locked me in that hospital," Belle murmured, wracking her brain for any hint of recognition or spark from his words but finding none forthcoming.

"And I took on every appearance of becoming her lackey." The bitterness in his voice had given way to something else entirely. A sneer lined his face and the sight of it alarmed Belle; the expression was a complete turnaround from all of the pleasant little smiles she'd seen thus far. "Unfortunately for madam mayor, you escaped. Now Regina will be fearing my retribution—and with good reason."

The question most haunting Belle hung unanswered in the air, but Mr. Gold said nothing further and Belle could not muster the courage to ask. So they finished their meals in a strained silence that had not existed minutes before, each lost in their own thoughts. After they had eaten their fill, Belle helped Mr. Gold clean up the dishes and load them into the dishwasher (a contraption which simultaneously surprised and delighted the former) before they both stood together, facing each other but looking anywhere but at each other's face.

"Well, it's late and I think I am going to do a bit of reading before bed…" Mr. Gold said uncertainly in a valiant attempt at politely excusing himself from Belle's company.

"I'm just going to unpack all of my new things before doing the same," Belle smiled at him warmly, hoping to convey that she was not at all negatively affected by their dinnertime conversation.

"I'll help you carry everything to your room, then."

Together they gathered up the heap of bags and lugged them up the stairs. Belle had chosen to remain in the room with the single bed, fighting away Mr. Gold's insistence that he could order her a bigger, more comfortable one.

"I sleep just fine in the one you already have, actually," she had said dismissively when he'd pointed inside a furniture store in town. "Any bigger would probably make me nervous." Belle had become so used to the narrow confines of a small bed over the years that a large one would just make her feel vulnerable.

They dropped the bags on the floor just inside her room, and Belle turned back to face Mr. Gold with a fierce, albeit shy, determination. She rubbed her right forearm with her left hand, embarrassed at the awkwardness that had formed between them but at the same time not wanting him to leave. She motioned towards the bags and then reached out to grab one of his hands in both of hers.

"Thank you for everything, Mr. Gold. You didn't have to buy me anything at all, I'll never know how to thank you properly."

The sincerity in Belle's words seemed a momentary shock to Mr. Gold, and it was with the look of one at a complete loss for words who leaned over to kiss Belle on the forehead. When he moved away, Belle felt her heart ache at the growing distance.

"You don't need to thank me, Belle. Now rest up, your big day out is tomorrow." Mr. Gold smirked and then left, shutting the door gently behind him.

A few seconds passed before Belle's still-sluggish brain realized what he had meant. Tomorrow was Saturday—the big girl's night. She allowed herself to give in to the rather superficial thoughts about what Ruby and Mary Margaret had in mind for their day out—and giggled to herself when she imagined the tortured expression on Emma's face throughout the entire event.

Belle's thoughts drifted pleasantly to various topics as she unpacked her new things. She stripped the bed of the current, rather plain white bed sheets and applied the new set Mr. Gold had bought for her. Belle had found herself drawn to a yellow and white set that warmed Belle just to gaze upon it, reminding her of lying in the grass on a warm summer's day as she leisurely passed the time away with a book. Belle paused as she forcibly tugged her pillow into its new yellow case, frowning. How could she remember an activity that she could not recollect having actually done?

There was so much still confusing Belle, and Mr. Gold hadn't done much to clarify things. She could only assume that whatever their past was pained him in some way, a thought which gave Belle an inexplicable sadness. Did her presence hurt him as much as it consoled him? Not wanting her thoughts to turn dark just before bed should they give rise to nightmares like the night before, Belle forced herself to examine each item as she removed them from their bags.

Mr. Gold had proven to be a pleasant shopping companion. Whenever Belle would find an article of clothing she liked, he would wait patiently outside her dressing room door and then critique the garment when she emerged wearing it. He'd never given her the impression that a thumbs down was due to her own flaws, however. She realized in the quiet of her room, her fingers rubbing the silky material of a navy blue blouse she particularly favored, that Mr. Gold had brought out a confidence in herself that Belle had long since forgotten she'd had.

Smiling to herself, Belle tucked away her new clothes and shoes into the closet (an act which filled her with a rush of pleasure, having never owned one that she could recall nor, indeed, having anything for which to need one) pulled on one of her new pajama sets. They were red and black plaid pants much like Mr. Gold's and a black tank top, and then slipped luxuriously into her newly personalized bed. The fabric was slightly stiff and Belle realized she probably should have washed them before applying them but her excitement had overruled practicality. Her eyes found the remaining bags by the door which contained her feminine products (including a lovely, floral shampoo and conditioner set, new body wash, and a strange poofy thing Mr. Gold had called a "loofah", which apparently one used to clean themselves with in the shower) and decided she'd unpack them in the morning. For the first time in recent memory, Belle had items that belonged to her, items that she had picked out and enjoyed having. Her preoccupation with this new materialism should have bothered her, she knew, but could not bring herself to cut out the pleasure of it nonetheless.

Belle closed her eyes and huddled under the comforter, finding a relaxing position with one arm under the pillow she rested on and the other curved in front of her. Her right leg was half-raised so that the inside of her knee was on the mattress, parallel with her hips. She could not remember a time when she had felt comfort such as this when she'd prepared to sleep. Even the night before Belle had found herself in a fitful state, the shock of her escape and new surroundings keeping her anxiety level high.

Soon Belle found herself succumbing to another new action: in her mind's eye she saw herself out shopping with Mary Margaret, Ruby, and Emma and trying on a tight, somewhat revealing red dress. Her new friends raved about how pretty she looked and then a familiar, masculine voice behind her agreed softly. Arms slipped around her waist and lips found their way to her bare shoulder, long, brown hair tickling her neck.

Exceedingly glad Mr. Gold could not hear her thoughts, Belle felt herself grinning as she buried herself deeper in her sheets, the fantasy carrying her off to sleep.


End file.
